


Early Warning System

by Spacewhalewriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Grumpy Dean Winchester, I have no idea where this plot is going, Prophets, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacewhalewriting/pseuds/Spacewhalewriting
Summary: Charlie is in the mental hospital for hallucinations and paranoid delusions. What happens when Sam Winchester, posing as an orderly, gets her out and tells her her delusions aren't delusions?  I also have no idea where this plot is headed





	1. Jailbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is having a bad day

“Are you ready for your meds, Charlise?”

The friendly voice came gently from behind her book, as if not to spook her. Sam.

Charlie put down her book and there he was, his whites pressed neatly, that open expression that stayed on his face no matter which way the ends of his mouth were turned- innocence, perhaps. He dwarfed her by head and shoulders, so he bent and she reached. Straightening her slouch, she took the proffered cup without hesitation. Tossing her pills back like a shot, she gave the cup back and received another with water. From some she might have refused them, but Sam was her favorite. He smiled a big trusting smile and she folded herself back into the chair like a little bug, murmuring her thanks in the gentle voice that kept her her common room privileges. To her simultaneous delight and dismay he sat in the chair across from her, elbows resting on his knees and hands loosely clasped. The top pages of her book flirted with the underside of her nose; somehow whenever Sam was around she felt simultaneously intimidated and safe. His eyebrows curved into sympathetic u’s and she turned to butter.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. The dreaded question.

“Better.” She said, simply. It was a lie. One of the cafeteria ladies this morning had been...well, anyway. She might have been put away against her will but she wasn’t a danger to others so the lie did not weigh on her conscience. He looked at his hands for a moment, expression flickering towards a pensive blankness, then his eyes were back on her and the smile was there again. He stood up, his hand briefly skimming her upper arm in a comforting way and her stomach flip flopped.

“Good, I’m glad. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” He said, shrugging his broad shoulders to adjust the fall of his shirt. She watched him go, her problems a mile away for the moment.

______________________

She was watching tv when one came in. She saw it out of the corner of her eye, a flickering darkness in the vague shape of a person. Filmy and with tendrils of smoke leaking from it. Frozen, she kept her eyes on the screen, watching it with her peripheral vision. It sat down in the puffy chair to her right and seemed to focus its attention on the screen. The air around it seemed stale and foul with sulfur. When she closed her eyes that smell was still there.

_It’s not real It’s not real_

Then why could she _smell_ it? Senses on hairtrigger, she opened her eyes at footsteps, keeping them glued on the screen. If she could just ignore it maybe she could just outlast it. Maybe if she could sit with it her brain would grow tired of torturing and there would be a normal person sitting in that chair. The same flicker came from the corner of her left eye. A buzzing, electric dread had started slow in her chest, but rose now like a wave. Sweat laced her upper lip. Slowly she turned her head fraction by fraction. It was looking not at the tv, but at her. Facing front again, she wiped the sweat from her lip with the back of her hand and found that it was shaking. She was cornered. That smell invaded her nostrils, burning hairs there.

_Close your eyes, child, they’re not real._

Everything from that moment felt like it went in slow motion. She arced from her chair, fingers gripping the armrests and then letting go like gum on the bottom of a shoe. Her feet, previously folded underneath her, hit the ground and pivoted on the floor, turning her body towards the door. As she did, the shadow faces followed, moving without moving. Here and then there. Fast. Inhumanly fast. One got between her and the door and she screamed, stumbling and then falling and crawling between its legs to be free of it. Once she was out of the doorway she clawed her way to her feet again and ran. She must have been screaming the whole way because the disruption caused orderlies to pop up in her periphery, but she did not heed them, pushing past a nurse carrying a tray of meds and knocking it to the floor, scattering pills.

_The meds don’t work- they don’t work-_

Her bare feet slapped the cold linoleum floor, each step infecting the sterile surface. Every time her skin hit the floor it felt like rocks clashing together. It hurt to run barefoot, but not as much as the feeling of being trapped in here with them, not as much as the terror chasing her in the form of men in white who didn’t know, didn’t know. The further she ran the deeper she dug her own grave, but she dashed down the hall haphazardly all the same. She couldn’t tell anymore if she was more terrified of herself or of the shadow people or of what the doctors would do when the orderlies caught her, but she wanted out and she ran, ran, ran. A rat in a maze. She came to a dead end in the form of a locked door and before she could turn to face her fear she was tackled to the ground.

The problem was that she wasn’t crazy. She was suffocating. _I need to get out- let me out!!_ She was screaming and fighting, barely aware of what she was saying.

“Oh g-god, help me! Their eyes!” They were dark but their eyes burned like fire, cutting her to her very quick. “Help me, please, they-” They weren’t listening and still she fought for release, an animal trapped. Was that Sam? He looked shocked but he was some the only kind of safety she thought she had and she clawed to reach him, crazed and crying. “No, please don’t- Sam, don’t let them, no-” There were more of them and they weighed her down, pinning her writhing body long enough to stab a needle into the flesh of her ass; the more furiously she fought the faster the blood pumped through her body and the faster the drugs worked. Her motions slowed and became drunken. As she went limp, _thorazine_ flitted through her mind. They only used that on the violent or actively psychotic patients. _So that’s what I am now. One of_ those.

______________________________________

Charlie didn’t know when she’d gone out or when she came back. Everything was fuzzy. Swimmy. In and out....In and out. What was real, and what was the product of the cocktail of sedatives they had her on? How much time had passed, was passing? The light went. A day maybe. Why hadn’t anyone come? She wasn’t hungry, too nauseated by the thought of food to dwell on it for long. More than anything she felt dead, inside and out. Cold trails leaking around her ears and soaking into her scalp told her that she had been crying for some time, but she didn’t remember doing so. Had she tried to move she would have realized that she was strapped to the hospital bed she was in.

The door creaked open. A flat, cold dread filled her. No doctor would open the door that way, and in the dark. The figure that stepped into the room, closing the door behind it, was almost impossibly tall but it moved like a human and there was no smell of sulfur. That, at least put her mind at ease, but it was the voice that made her breath suddenly swell in her chest as if she were breathing for the first time after being trapped underwater.

“Charlise?” Sam. She almost cried- not from relief, but helplessness. He’d watched while they had sedated her, but of course he had. It was his job. Now she just felt embarrassed that she’d called out for him, as if he could or as if he wanted to help her. “I’m here to help.” He said. A flutter of shock passed through her- or was it wild hope? She couldn’t tell which was which when she didn’t know what was up and what was down, but for whatever reason he had to abandon his professionalism and come see her, he was her only hope. Words wanted to spew from her mouth, begging words, helpless words, but her vocal cords locked almost solid, she couldn’t summon more than a rasp.

“ _Please_.” She croaked. The straps were uncinched and he gathered her in his arms. She was a jointless doll, fingers too weak to even cling to his shirt- but he didn’t drop her. The next thing she knew the darkness of her prision was replaced by light. The hallway flashed by, fluorescent lights passing _shoom shoom shoom_. Voices went over her head, Sam’s distinct one and someone else’s that she didn’t recognize.

“You got her? What was going on?” It said. It was male.

“Yeah, they pumped her full of something- she’s hardly breathing.” Sam responded. Charlie felt weak, so weak. Her head lolled to the right side and she could see a figure striding next to Sam, a man not nearly as tall, but solid and dressed in flannel and a leather jacket.

“Here, this should help. Epinephrine. I jacked it from one of the nurses carts. It’ll clear her system faster.” A sudden pain jolted through her thigh. She tried to yelp but all that came out was a groan. Over her head, Sam’s voice was reproachful.

“Dude, go easy.”

“What? We don’t have a lot of time. If one of these crazies wakes up and sounds the alarm or we get caught by an orderly the jig is up and miss hallucinations goes back to her cozy little cell.” Weak fingers had come up to grip Sam’s shoulder and shirt but suddenly they dug in with a surprising strength, renewed. Charlie gasped, her heartbeat in her ears and Sam winced.

“We've been over this, they’re not hallucin- ow!” He said. Sense came back to her and Charlie realized that she knew nothing about her rescuers or their motivations. She had prayed for release, begged for it, but what kind of orderly did that, and in the middle of the night? Who was the man with him? Where were they going? All the sudden blood was pumping fast, pressing through her head and from behind her eyeballs. Air existed again and she gulped it in all in a gasp. She clawed for understanding but found herself still in the drug’s embrace. He murmured in her panicked ear, the movement of his body under her breaking into a jog.

“Sh, sh, sh, shhh, it’s okay…Just breathe. We’re going to get you out of here.” He said. She clawed at his shoulder despite his reassurances.

“Where!” She rasped. “What? Who are-? Sam??”

“This was your fucking idea. I told you to leave her.” Said the other man.

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam said. Charlie could at once not breathe and breathe so deeply she felt like the air went straight through her like a wind tunnel. She didn’t know where she was going or why- but it hit her as they came into the night air that like in all things lately, she really had no choice. But even if she were thinking clearly she would have still decided that Sam and anyone with him was more trustworthy than her helpful black eyed doctor.


	2. The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie witnesses her first exorcism in the bathroom of a Texaco

Despite realizing this, the moment Sam had loaded her into the back seat of an old car with a long body and leather seats, she felt the need to run. Maybe it was the epinephrine. It was still doing battle with the sedatives in her system, but she was awake enough to drag herself into a half sitting position, rolling down the window and gulping in the night air, cool on her face. She and Sam were in their scrubs still, Dean was driving. The radio turned on, guiding her through the night.

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid...You were made to go out and get her..._

It felt surreal to be free. To have this song playing her along.

_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain..._

The song passed. The streetlights passed. Scenery passed. Slowly they went out of the city, hitting the highway and then eventually some two lane rural freeway. After swallowing, Charlie found the strength to speak.

“Where are we going?” She asked. Her voice was raspy as if just waking. Sam turned around in his seat, putting an arm around the headrest to steady himself.

“I thought you were sleeping.” He said. She shook her head. She was still sick from the interacting meds, but she was awake. Still frightened. Sam didn’t necessarily frighten her, but the situation did. When morning came, people would start looking for her. _Do you really want them to find you? Do you want to go back there?_ The answer was a resounding no, but she still didn’t know what she had traded it for and why. “How are you feeling?” He asked. She shook her head again, indicating that she didn’t feel her best. Dean spoke up.

“You better not vomit, I just had the leather in here conditioned.”

“Thanks, Dean, that’s really helpful.” Sam said sarcastically, throwing a scathing look towards him. Charlie dragged herself into a more seated position, huddled against the door opposite from Sam.

“Where are we going?” She repeated.

“As far the hell out of dodge as possible.” Said Dean.

“I mean is this a rescue or a kidnapping.” She said, flatly. Sam looked hurt. Dean laughed.

“It’s a rescue.” Said Sam, earnestly.

“You sure?” She asked, her bravery coming back a little. “What kind of orderly are you?” Sam’s eyebrows did the U thing, looking a little guilty.

“I’m not a real orderly. I was just posing as one long enough to get in and get you out.”

“Why me? You could have chosen any schizophrenic in the place.”

“Look at me, Charlise.” He said. She did. He looked serious. Grim, even. “You’re not crazy. You can just see things that other people can’t. I’m going to tell you a lot of things that are going to be hard for you to believe. You don’t have to believe them right away, but it’s important that you keep an open mind, ok?” Said Sam. Charlie looked between the two men. There was a little voice in the back of her head that overrode the doubt, grasping onto any shred of hope that she wasn’t insane. Looking out to the road illuminated by the car’s headlights, she took a deep breath. And then nodded. Sam began.

____________________________________

 

They had driven until it was light and then until it was dark again, stopping only for gas and car snacks, and once at a walmart. Dean was the one who went in, as Charlie and Sam were still in scrubs and easily spotted. Charlie was the oldest of four children, she knew how siblings worked. Sam and Dean definitely seemed related with the easy way they bickered. She learned things about them, and about herself on the drive. Things she almost didn’t want to believe, things she believed with all her desperate heart. That they were rescuers rather than kidnappers, for one.

They’d crossed state lines by nightfall, stopping finally at a roadside motel. There were two queen beds, one that Dean was unhappy sharing with Sam, and one that was Charlie’s. Before they slept, Sam threw Charlie a walmart bag with clothes in it and she thanked him, heading for the bathroom. Careful not to take all the hot water, she showered. The drugs had worn off, and she finally felt human again. The clothes helped too. Nothing special. A pair of shorts and a teeshirt. Probably the safest option since Dean didn’t really know anything about shopping for women, but nothing was too uncomfortable and she was finally free of the scrubs. She threw them in the trash. By the time she came out the boys were in bed, but the sheets were not unruffled, Dean complaining.

“You fucking Yeti, your feet are freezing!”

“Sam.” Said Charlie, quietly. The fighting stopped. “You can share with me. The bed’s big enough.” Dean snickered. There was a scuffling sound and an “ow!” that told her Sam had kicked him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, chivalrously.

“Yeah.” She said, getting into the far side by the bathroom and laying there on her side. He got up, giving Dean a look, and got in on the other side, cautiously. There was at least two feet of space between them, a respectful distance that she had a feeling Sam did not want to cross. Long after Dean’s soft snoring came from the other bed, Charlie couldn’t sleep. Under the sheets her fingers traveled across the distance between her and Sam, touching his arm. He didn’t move.

“Are you awake?” She whispered.

“Yeah.” He whispered back. There was a beat in which she thought of what to say. She gripped his arm gently.

“Thank you.” She said. She’d asked so many questions and received many answers, but the transition from the hospital to here still left her with doubts and fears for the future. Sam and Dean were nomadic. There was a place for her in the back seat of their car, but for how long? Was she forever going to be on the run now? “Are you going to teach me how to hunt?”

“For now you’re just our early warning system.” He said. “Don’t worry about the hunting, Dean and I will take care of that.”

She indeed worried.

_____________________________________________

The next morning they hit the road again, stopping at a pancake place. The moment they walked in she knew, but she couldn’t make a fuss, instead letting the hostess seat them and pinning her eyes to the table so she wouldn’t have to look at it. It was looking at her. She nudged Sam’s ankle under the table, keeping her eyes on the table.

“There’s one in the corner booth.”

“What does it look like?” He asked. It didn’t occur to her that there were different ones. The possibility frightened her. She described the shadow person in as much detail as she could, in a murmur. Sam looked at Dean.

“Yeah that sounds like a demon to me.” Dean said, glancing casually behind him, cursing through his teeth. “I thought we’d have at least a couple of weeks before these cock-” Sam gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look and Dean broke off, censoring himself. “-roaches found us.”

“I’m twenty two, I know what a cocksucker is.” Charlie said, quiet enough that they could hear her but none of the surrounding tables would. Dean sputtered a laugh into his coffee. Sam rolled his eyes, putting his face in his hand for a moment.

“We need an exit plan.” He said.

“We can just leave.” She pointed out, wanting that very much.

“Not without that thing following us and reporting where we are to big boss.” Said Dean.

“Actually, I think that’s exactly what we want.” Said Sam. They finished breakfast, but Charlie could hardly force down her pancakes with the thing in the corner booth staring at her. She gave her uneaten sausage and bacon to Dean, who wolfed them down along with his own grand slam. Sam had an egg white omelet and a fruit bowl. Once they were finished Dean signed the receipt and they hit the road again. The hairs on the back of her neck told Charlie that the thing had followed them and she told the two men with her. They seemed satisfied. They hit a gas station and when they pulled in, Sam got out to pump the gas and Dean went into the convenience store. Charlie got the key from the attendant and went back out to the side of the building to use the restroom.

As she was washing her hands the still unlocked door creaked open. The fine blonde hair on her arms stood at attention. She didn’t dare look up into the mirror, knowing the face that she would find there. A fingertip of smoke crept over her shoulder. She wanted to scream. Instead she reached to the towel holder beside the sink and dried her hands. They were shaking. Then, before turning, she reached into her waistband and pulled out a plastic container of water. Swiftly, she turned, uncapping it and splashing it into it’s face. The black figure hissed, smoking and twisting and the door banged open. Dean came in with a book and crucifix in hand, Sam close behind him with more holy water. Charlie backed up against the sink, watching the men shove the figure up against the opposite wall of the restroom. Dean chanted the appropriate words of the exorcism but she understood none of the Latin. Sam continued to douse it with holy water and it struggled against the two men. Charlie looked to the door. Someone was going to hear this. Swiftly she leaned forward, taking off her men’s boot and shoving it into the yawning mouth, muffling the shrieks. It and they were much taller than her but she held it there with both hands as it thrashed. She shouted over Dean’s Latin.

“Shut up! This is what you fucking get!” It was gagging now, swirling and draining from the form that held it. Suddenly the shoe was forced out of its mouth by the demon’s exit, knocking her backwards onto her ass and blasting in a stream up to the ceiling and away. There left was an ordinary man, looking harassed and abused, soaking wet and bruised. She gasped. It wasn’t all demon, it had been _riding_ someone. Sam helped her to her feet and the three of them exited quickly before the man could get his bearings and shout for help.

She put her shoe back on in the car as they peeled out of the gas station parking lot, leaving behind a soaking man stumbling out of the women’s restroom and gazing around as if lost.


	3. Crocatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Charlie's dead fiance makes an unexpected appearance. We find out why she was in the mental hospital to begin with

Charlie sat in the backseat as the radio played. Everything felt temporary, a temporary forever, without house or home, on the run every day. It was familiar. She had grown up in a temporary place, with temporary children, all waiting to age out of the system. This felt no different. For a time she had had stability, a year or two spent with her fiance. But ultimately she was unafraid to run from him. She missed him some days, but strangely being with Sam and Dean felt like a return to normalcy. She grew more attached to them and they to her. She was useful after all. The grand scheme that she had fallen into was strange but knowing that what she saw was real somehow made it easier to face. It was no longer her own instability that she battled against but real flesh and blood _things_ that went bump in the night. And you could fight them. Knowing that you _could_ fight them made her braver against them. She still woke up sweating some nights, but Sam across from her, even the polite distance he kept away, was a comfort. The things they came up against became scarier and scarier but she didn’t feel like anything could hurt her as long as she was with Sam and Dean.

She honestly had tried to forget James. It was easier that way. They were a few miles outside Cincinnati. Sam was on his laptop doing research on their newest monster before they swung into town and Dean was out picking up burgers. Charlie was sitting on one of the motel beds, reading a paperback book that Dean had gotten for her at a gas station stop. They didn’t know exactly what was going on besides some obvious spirit activity somewhere in Milan, Ohio. A suicide. Electronics misbehaving. They hadn’t gotten into town to do any real life investigating so it wasn’t until the phone call that they had a clue as to what was going on. As Dean was closing the door with his foot, paper sacks in hand and milkshakes in the crook of his arm, his cell phone went off. The table was covered in Sam’s research so there was nowhere to put the food and he held it up as Sam cleared off the table.

“Hurry up, Sam. Damnit, will someone just get that? It could be Bobby.” He said, irritated. Charlie jumped up, patting his pockets as if frisking him.

“Well where is it?” She asked, digging into his pocket where she felt the vibrating lump.

“Watch the family jewels there, lady.” He said and she ignored him and pulled out the phone, flipping it open. It was an old school burner. Instead of Bobby’s voice- she hadn’t met him yet but the boys talked plenty about him- a familiar voice broke through the line of static.

“Charlie Anne?.....Charlie is that you?”

Her mouth went dry. Sam had finally gotten the table cleared off and Dean was unpacking the food, fries already on their way to his mouth.

“What’s he say?” Dean asked, still expecting Bobby on the other line. It wasn’t Bobby, it was far from Bobby. He shouldn’t know where she was or who she was with, it was impossible.

“I’m sorry you have the wrong number.” She said, and closed the phone before they could protest.

“Who was that?” Asked Sam. Before she had a chance to make up a lie, the phone on the bedside table rang. She approached it, picking up the receiver with the cell phone still in her hand.

“Hello?” She asked. The same voice from the cell phone came through, more urgently.

“Charlie, talk to me- where are you??” It said. Sweat broke out over her brow. She slammed the phone back on the hook.

“What the hell is going on?” Asked Dean. The men glanced at each other. The phone rang again. Charlie backed away from it, turning to face the brothers with confusion in her eyes. Dean went for the phone but she stopped him and he gave her a look just as confused.

“Don’t answer that.” She warned. It kept ringing. Dean looked at her- “don’t-” she said- and then brushed past her, picking up the receiver.

“Hello?” He answered. There came a voice from the other line but Charlie couldn’t hear what they were saying. Dean frowned. “There’s no one here by that name.” He hung up. Then he rounded on Charlie for explanation. “Who was that and how did he know where to find you?” He asked. She didn’t have an explanation.

“I don’t know how he found me. Honest.” She said. Sam was even more out of the loop than she was.

“What’s going on, Dean?” He asked.

“What’s going on is some guy is calling our motel and my personal phone, looking for blondie here.” Dean said, accusingly.

“I don’t know how he got the number! I don’t even know how-” She broke off, sinking down onto the bed and sitting in a small ball with her knees pulled to her chest and arms over her head. Her words came muffled. “I don’t know how he’s calling, he’s dead.” A few beats of silence passed. A weight landed on the bed next to her, Sam sitting next to her and putting his arm around her. It all came out, what she was running from with every mile that they put between them and the hospital. She told him about the night that she’d come home to the power not working. How she’d expected James to be home lighting candles and found nothing but a dark house. How she’d found the thing in the kitchen, _feeding_. She’d picked up a kitchen knife to defend herself but she’d slipped in a puddle of blood and blacked out when her head hit the floor. When she came to she’d called the police. They couldn’t pin it on her because the marks on the body didn’t match the fingerprints on the knife she’d picked up, but they’d put her in the mental hospital thanks to her hysterical description of her fiance’s attacker.

That and the window had been broken and strange footprints had been found in the blood.

________________________________________

They had unplugged the phone and stashed the cells in the car. Dean didn’t want Charlie leaving the motel room but she’d pointed out how stupid it’d be not to bring her. She could just wait in the car, she insisted. But if this spirit activity was connected to the Milan case she would be useful. Dean argued that if it was a voice on the phone there was nothing for her to see through and therefore she would only get in the way.

They left her behind. The phone rang three more times while they were gone. The third time, she picked it up, knowing that the voice she heard on the other end wasn’t really him as he had been alive.

“Charlie?” There was static but she could hear him as if he were really there.

“It’s me.” She said finally.

“Where are you?” He asked. Her eyes filled with tears. He sounded so plaintive. As if she’d left him.

“I can’t tell you that.” She said, a little choked.

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

“I miss you. I want to see you.”

“Tell me where you are.”

“You know where I am.” He said. She began to shake, tears flowing freely down her face.

“I know. I...I tried. You were already dead when I came home, I...” She said, voice cracking.

“It’s not your fault. I just want to see you. Will you come to me?” He asked. The static fluctuated on the other line. Charlie swallowed. Sam and Dean had told her quite firmly not to leave the motel room. She had seen James on the floor covered in blood. Seen the paramedics carry his body out on a gurney. It wasn’t him.

“No.” She hung up, bending forward on her seat on the bed to hold her self and gasp for air as she sobbed. The phone rang.

___________________________________

It was dark before Sam and Dean came back. Sam was sporting a bloody nose and both of them smelled like stale sweat. She knew where Dean kept his whiskey and she had brought it outside with her, sitting on the doorstep where the ringing would be muffled and swigging straight from the bottle, chasing it with coke. The phone had stopped ringing about an hour ago but she hadn’t stopped drinking, trying to drown James and the memories.

“Alright, up, drunky.” Dean said, and both men hauled her to her feet. They led her inside one on each side of her, holding her up.

“Is it gone?” She asked, slurring a little.

“It was a crocatta. Sammy killed it, you’re gonna be okay.” Answered Dean. She didn’t know what a crocatta was, but it was gone now.

“Thanks.” She mumbled as Sam led her to the closest bed. She sat and attempted to unlace her shoes but couldn’t get the handle of it so she kicked them off clumsily, collapsing back onto the sheets.

“Lets get you into bed.” Sam said to Charlie. To Dean he said “You can shower first, I’ll take care of her.” Charlie wasn’t very clear on what she was doing anymore, struggling to pull her shirt over her head. “Whoa, keep that on.” Sam said, pulling it back down and opening the covers for her to roll in.

“Why?” She whined, wiggling in under the covers.

“Dean’s in the next room.” He said, hastily. She smiled to herself, eyes closed already. She felt warm and fuzzy.

“You wanna see me naked but not if Dean’s here?” She asked. It seemed okay to tease him, in her state. She felt loose and happy, a far cry from when she’d started drinking. She couldn’t see but Sam was smiling, eyebrows upturned, not sure what to do with this drunken flirtation. A moment of silence passed between them and then she felt lips press against her forehead, his hand stroking the sweaty bangs from her face. She fell asleep quickly.


	4. It's Like Sleeping with Your Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Dean gets laid, Sam does not

Time went by. They were constantly on the road. They must have covered most of the lower forty eight by now. Miami was hot. Minnesota was cold. North Dakota was flat. Charlie learned how to use an EMF detector, how to shoot a gun, how to hustle a card game, how to come up with social security numbers for credit card applications. The autumn of her incarceration was now fading into winter with the Winchesters. The jobs had slowed down and Charlie showed her usefulness with sniffing out demons as they focused on Dean’s little problem. As she understood it he’d stopped exorcising demons long enough to make a deal with one and now his time was drawing to a close. Honestly she’d been distracted by James’ lingering presence until they’d seen fit to share this information and now she threw herself wholey into the distraction that was searching for an out for Dean. She became more educated than she’d ever been but on subjects that you’d never study in school. She could recite a latin exorcism and carried a knife in her right boot. Always she had been a survivalist, always holding on for the next day and what changes it would bring, but now she found herself fiercer than ever before, bolder with her boys always her backing force. Once in a while they went for a beer. Dean came back from the bar just long enough to throw Sam the keys to the motel room.

“Dude, where are you going?” Sam asked. Charlie swigged her beer, noticing the pretty brunette coming up behind Dean.

“Going to live it up a little.” Dean answered, winking at the both of them as his date caught up and caught his arm. “Don’t wait up, kids.”

“Are you taking the Impala? How are we getting back to the motel??” Sam asked after his retreating back.

“Take a cab! See you!” Answered Dean, and he was out the door. Sam settled back into his chair with a downward twitch of his mouth and a sigh. Charlie didn’t mind as much. Sometimes Dean picked up chicks. God knew that in a life like this with just the three of them, there were needs that went unfulfilled if you didn’t reach out. Hers certainly did, because she wasn’t able to do what Dean did- strangers. She had to trust someone to sleep with them, but maybe that was an antiquated hang up she had. She finished off her beer and mentally calculated if she was too tipsy to have another. Standing up to go use the restroom told her that indeed she was. When she came back Sam had paid up their tab and was waiting for her at the bar. Gladly she took his arm and he walked her out to the street where they caught a cab. When they got back he went to take a shower. By the time he got out she had changed into an old flannel of Dean’s that he’d lent her for sleeping and was sitting in bed reading an compendium of demonic spirits. It fit Dean properly but the shirt’s sleeves covered her fingers and her legs down to the lower thighs. Sam came out of the bathroom in his boxers, drying his hair with a towel. She glanced but had sobered up and didn’t linger too long, going back to her book before she got caught looking. He put on a shirt and climbed into the opposite side of the bed, grabbing his own book and tucking a pen behind his ear.

Eventually Charlie laid down her book to sleep. She’d been distracted by the hunt for months now, but her dreams were fair game and she found herself facing the version of James that she’d last seen. Pale and covered in his own blood. His blue eyes were milky and staring. _If you hadn’t picked up that extra shift it would be you dead and not me. You made this happen, Charlie._

She awoke gasping, Sam’s hand on her shoulder shaking her. The other bed was still empty. Her vision was spotty as if she hadn’t been breathing, just now pulling air into her lungs.

“Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.” Said Sam, concern in his voice. She rolled over and hid her face in his chest, his arm coming around her to hold her. “It’s okay, it was just a dream.”

“It was my fault.” She sobbed. “If I had just come home earlier-”

“You’d probably be dead too.” He answered, stroking her hair to soothe her. He knew what she was talking about. She hadn’t talked about it since the crocatta. Even knowing what was out there, what they fought against every day, his arms felt like the safest place in the whole world.

“I’m so lonely, Sam.” She said, fingers digging into his shirt and pulling up handfuls of it.

“I’m here.” He breathed. “I’m here.” He stroked her hair, holding her close. Safe there in his strong arms, she made a terrible decision out of honest affection and a little of desperation to be comforted. Her lips sought his, softly- not demanding in any way, but pleading. He licked his lips, pondering this action for a moment, then kissed her back just as softly. The response took her breath away, suddenly releasing a flood of feelings that she’d been repressing for the good of the peace amongst the three of them. They were all too close together to admit feelings for anyone else; it was like sleeping with your best friend. They wanted it now, but who knew what would happen in the morning? She pressed her body against Sam and found him solid, warm, comforting. The world could be on fire and she would feel perfectly at ease in bed with him. Their lips met again and deepened, soft and yielding. His hand found her thigh and slid up under her borrowed shirt to her lower back, pressing her close to his body as he kissed her. Hers was tangled in his hair, her tongue slipping into his mouth and tasting his bedtime toothpaste. One of her legs crept over his, entwining the two of them as their bodies moved against each other.

The door opened and a flood of light broke across the bed- hastily, they pushed the other away, hearts pounding. Dean didn’t seem to notice as his back was to them, locking the door carefully behind him. As darkness descended upon them once more they rolled away from each other and to the opposite sides of the bed that they had previously occupied. As Dean closed the door to the bathroom to shower, Charlie slid her hand across the vast space that separated them and found Sam’s. He squeezed it to let her know that she wasn’t alone.

They fell asleep like that.


	5. Everything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Monster of the week is a siren. Charlie's got it bad.

The next morning Dean was in a good mood. He didn’t notice the glances that Sam and Charlie kept exchanging, one looking when the other wasn’t and getting caught and looking away. They probably needed to talk about what had happened last night but didn’t dare in front of Dean. Things settled once they got into the car and they didn’t have a direct line of sight to the other anymore. Dean’s time was drawing close and they were headed to Bobby’s as a base of operation. He had some news that he couldn’t tell them over an open line. Sioux Falls, South Dakota wasn’t more than a day’s drive from where they were so as soon as everyone was ready to go they hit the road.

It was dark by the time they got there. They had stopped at a local place to bring dinner. Bobby answered the door with a shotgun, stopping them in their tracks.

“Oh. It’s you.” He said, lowering his shotgun. He was a gruff, bearded man of about fifty, wearing a trucker’s cap. Dean lowered his “don’t shoot me” hands.

“Jesus who did you think it was gonna be??” He asked.

“Stop whining and come inside.” Said Bobby, ushering them in.

“Bobby, this is Charlie. Charlie, Bobby.” Dean said, not looking back as he walked in and put the chinese on the messy kitchen table. There were several land line phones on the wall, all labeled with different government agencies. Holy water on the kitchen table. Charlie stuck out her hand and Bobby shook it.

“That’s a hell of a handshake you got there, little lady.” Bobby said. She smiled crookedly and he smiled back. It was a warm, fatherly smile despite the shotgun that had originally greeted them.

“What’s with the shotgun, Bobby?” Sam asked. Bobby laid it down on the kitchen table as Dean was getting plates and chopsticks sorted.

“There’s been some murders in the area.” He said. Charlie looked up from helping Dean.

“What kind of murders?” She asked.

“Mostly husbands beating wives to death.” He said.

“And you expected your husband to come through the door?” Dean asked.

“I expected that this was our sort of thing and that it could strike at any time. You boys should have more caution. Once isn’t suspicious, but three times is. Sounds like a spirit possession to me.” Bobby said.

“Okay, but first dinner?” asked Sam. “You can give us the details while we eat.” Charlie didn’t say anything. They were supposed to be here to take a break from it all and focus on Dean’s problem, but the job was everywhere. Bobby briefed them over dinner. Three murders in the past week, no priors, no marital problems that the neighbors knew of. Sam and Dean decided they’d put on the laywer suits and go to the prison tomorrow to see what they could get out of the last perpetrator. Charlie volunteered to go and the idea was greeted with enthusiasm. It was time she started learning how to pretend to be someone else if she was ever going to really be good at this job.

“You’re going to need clothes. What do you think, Sammy, sexy secretary?” He asked, grinning. Sam ducked his head, not making eye contact with Charlie.

“Dude, shut up.” He said, shoveling steamed vegetables onto his plate.

___________________________

Charlie mostly hung back taking notes, but when they left county they decided to split up. Dean stayed behind to talk to the arresting officers, and Sam went to the attending’s office to find out what she could about the bloodwork on the husbands, dropping charlie off at the ER to check with the morgue. The morgue was unattended and instead of signing the visitors book and waiting for the physician Charlie went in and did the most logical thing she could think of, looking for paperwork with the vics names and finding what she needed. She read the autopsy reports and went to the freezer drawers noted on the paperwork, pulling them out. It was the woman whose husband had beaten her to death with a meat tenderizer. Not pretty. She inspected the body but didn’t get any weird vibes that caused her to suspect a spirit. She checked the body for EMF and found nothing, putting the detector back in her jacket pocket.

Satisfied, she left. She was going to call the boys but she hadn’t had lunch yet so she stopped at a vending machine and got a coke and a honeybun, cracking the coke open and taking a swig. Putting it down, she pulled out her phone to text Sam. She hadn’t had any reason to pay attention to her drink, not noticing it taken and then replaced on the counter beside her. Absently, she took a sip, completely unaware.

“Excuse me.” Came a voice. She turned. It was a tall man with a handsome, all american face and a pressed suit that screamed “authority figure”. “I need to sign in to talk to the attending about the spousal murders.” She didn’t move and he raised an eyebrow, flashing her a badge that read at first glance “FBI”. She got clammy hands on the spot. They weren’t the only people investigating this it looked like. The real cops had shown up. Fighting the urge to ghost, she pulled out her own badge. She was dressed for the job and her badge was passable if you didn’t look too closely. Sam and Dean had years of practice at this but her ID had been put together last night. She flashed it, hoping that the bolder the lie the better chance she had at being believed.

“Charlise Mulligan, DC. And you are?” She asked, giving him the last name on her fake ID and hoping that she sounded tough and no nonsense.

“Nick Monroe, special crimes, Omaha.”

“The physician’s out right now so we can’t get in.” She said, misleading him. “Is this going to be a pissing contest between departments? Because I’d rather you call my superiors so we don’t have this problem.” She said, holding out a card that Bobby had given her.

“No need, sounds like you have jurisdiction, being from DC and all. To tell you a truth it’s more of a curiosity on my own part. I’ve been following the case from HQ and I gotta tell you it was weird enough to catch my eye. I’m here on my own time.” He said. He took the card anyway. She was a little taken aback but tried not to let the relief show on her face.

“Oh. Well. That’s...Good.” She said, lamely. He put his hands in his pockets, shrugging in an “aw shucks” way that was oddly disarming.

“Listen, if you don’t mind, I’d love to pick your brain about what you think’s going on.” He said. She was about to give him some bullshit about not being able to share the details of an active case but she realized that real FBI had resources far beyond them. She smiled just as disarmingly and agreed.

“Just let me call my partners.” She stepped off to a side hallway where she could still see Nick, calling the cell phone she had on speed dial. Sam picked up. “Some FBI guy showed up.” She said.

“What?”

“Yeah but it’s not a problem, I think this could widen our scope. He might have info we don’t and I think I can get it out of him. What’d you find out with the blood work?”

“Okay....but be careful. Bloodwork was a little weird but we’re looking into it now. The husbands all had high levels of this hormone oxytocin.” Sam said. Charlie remembered an article she’d read online once.

“The cuddle hormone?” She asked. “That’s...weird. They were feeling good while they murdered their wives?”

“I dunno, but it’s the only lead we’ve got. Maybe you’ll have more luck with the fed. Call me if you need a bail out, I’ll come get you.”

“Copy that, chief.” She said, flipping her phone closed and turning back to Nick. “Lets go get a drink.” She said.

______________________________

Charlie and Nick sat in a coffee shop nearby the hospital, she with a tea and he with a black coffee. Politely, he’d offered to pay and she accepted. They talked easily, trading facts about the case. She didn’t even have to keep up her fed costume, he didn’t seem to care. He made casual conversation too, asking her where she was from and somehow it came spilling out of her mouth. She told him about growing up in rural Tennessee, how she’d been waitressing when she met James and he’d taken her on a whirlwind romance to New York to pursue his dreams as a photographer. Somehow, Nick seemed so...trustworthy. He just had one of those faces. One of those voices. The conversation circled back to the case. He told her about the club that all of the guys had gone to before the murders, about how they all drained their accounts on different strippers and about how suspicious this seemed to him.

“So you think they’re drugging these guys?” He asked.

“Something like that. We’re not sure yet.” She said.

“Maybe it’s in their saliva. Watch your drink around them.” He joked. She smiled. Her phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, it was Dean. She didn’t pick it up, assuming it was a call to meet back at Bobby’s to share the information that had been gleaned. She took a pen from her suit jacket and scribbled a number on a napkin, handing it to him.

“Here’s my number, keep me updated if you find anything out?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He said, pocketing the napkin. She left the coffee shop feeling oddly light. She called Dean back and shared the information about the strip club and he said to meet them there. Her cab pulled up at the same time as the Impala, getting out and meeting them at the front door. Dean hesitated, hand on the door handle.  
  
“What is it?” Asked Sam.

“Do you really think we should be bringing her in to this place, I mean...” Said Dean. Charlie rolled her eyes, elbowed him out of the way, and opened the door. She’d never been in a strip club before, but she thought she could handle some naked women.

“I’ve seen tits before, Dean, I have them.” She said, walking in.

“Yeah, but-” He blustered.

“Dean.” Said Sam. He let it go. They questioned the owner but got nowhere. All the names that Nick had provided were dust in the wind. Fake, disconnected from the girls themselves. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. They gave up the search and settled for beers. Bobby called while they were there, with an official theory. Sirens would explain everything, from the dream girls to the intoxication. The only way to kill a siren was with a bronze dagger dipped in the blood of a sailor under the spell.

“Well, we’re fucked. Where are we going to get blood of a sailor under the spell?” Dean asked. “We’re hundreds of miles away from the nearest coastline.”

“I don’t think it literally has to be a sailor, just someone under the spell.” Said Sam. Charlie had a thought.

“The blood samples they took at arrest. Sam, you talked to the attending, right? We can use those.” She said.

“Great. We split up again, Sam you get the blood samples, I’ll do some more digging on the girls, and Charlie you head back to Bobby’s to see if you can find more identifying lore.” Said Dean, finishing up his beer. They broke.

She was in her cab when she got the call from Dean. He sounded frantic.

“Charlie listen to me. It was the attending. The siren has Sam under her spell, do NOT go back to Bobby’s until I’ve straightened this out.” He said. Charlie’s stomach dropped. That was right. Husbands killing wives. Sons killing mothers. Men killing the women they were closest to. She was fast and smart but Sam outweighed her by nearly a hundred pounds. If they got in a fight he’d kill her easily. “There’s a motel on route six I want you to go to, you can wait this out there.” He gave her the address and she took a cab there, checking into the room he’d booked over the phone with a fake name and waiting. After waiting for some time there was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Nick standing there with a disarming smile on his handsome face.

Over his shoulder she saw Dean emerge from an exit door at the end of the hallway. Nick saw the look in her eyes and looked, then stepped inside and shut the door. As it closed, Charlie could see Dean breaking into a sprint towards them.

“Ah. I see. I was wrong. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He seemed to shimmer for a second and suddenly there was another Dean standing in front of her. In the moment this didn’t seem abnormal. She didn’t fight it.

“Foster kid, growing up in the system getting passed from family to family. Losing your fiance before the wedding. All you ever wanted was to be loved, isn’t that right, Charlie? That’s all.”

“Yes.” She said, voice small. He was reaching into her most shameful subconscious. All the things she pushed away, to pretend to not need.

“A protector, someone to watch over you and care about you forever, that’s what you want....I love you, Charlie. Forever. Do you love me?” He asked. She felt an overwhelming wave of it crash over her. There was a BANG on the other side of the door as Dean’s body crashed into it.

“Yes.” She said, choked. She did. There was a pounding on the door. Dean was shouting from the other side, sounding panicked.

“Charlie! Charlie open the door!”

“You have a knife. Take it out.” Said the Nick-Dean. She pulled her hunting knife from her boot. “Open the door, Charlie. Let him in.” He said. She unlocked the door and stood back. Dean came barreling in as if he’d tried to break the door down, going past them and stumbling inside. Turning to face the enemy he seemed shocked to see a version of himself standing in the room with her.

“Who the hell do you think you-” He started, advancing on Nick-Dean. The door was still open.

“He’s going to try to come between us. I want you to kill him.” Said Nick-Dean. It seemed logical. He was going to try to take Dean away from her, and that couldn’t happen. She’d rather be dead than be away from him. Charlie backed the real Dean up to the bed with knife in hand. He seemed angry and baffled that she of all people didn’t see the siren.

“How’d you get her, huh? Why are you doing this?? All of those poor bastards?” He asked.

“She didn’t watch her drink very closely. All it took was a little sip.” Said Nick-Dean. He grinned. “I get bored, you know....And I wanna fall in love again. And again. And again.”

“How are you not seeing through this, Charlie?? He’s obviously lying to you, I’m me! He’s the siren!” The real Dean shouted. Her eyes were flat. Dean swallowed, licking his lips nervously. “I don’t want to fight you, Charlie.” He said. She looked at the knife in her hand and then to him again, her eyes unfocused. The siren saw that he was losing his grip and tightened it again.

“Do it, Charlie. Do it for me.” He said. She looked back to him, confused. “I love you.” He said. She smiled; the sun was behind that smile, trusting and bright. She’d do anything for him. She turned back to the real Dean, missing Sam coming down the corridor through the open door, a bronze knife in hand. Dean made eye contact with him and then quickly focused back on Charlie. Loudly, so Sam could hear, he stalled for time.

“This isn’t you! I don’t know how you can’t see this bastard, but I’m the real Dean and this slimy asshole is lying to you!” He shouted. She heard footsteps behind her, looking back- taking advantage of her distraction, the real Dean launched himself forward, tackling her. She felt something break and screamed, the pain almost snapping her out of it. But not quite. She reached for him.

“Dean!” She screamed. It was too late. Sam had stuck the knife into Charlie’s shoulder, drawing blood, and spun to catch the siren Dean who saw that he had lost and was halfway to the door. He threw the blood covered knife, catching him in the back and paralyzing him. Reality cut Charlie like a knife, the walls of the illusion crashing down on her. She didn’t see Nick or even Dean anymore, but a grey skinned monster with holes for eyes and no mouth. She saw what he was and she didn’t love him anymore.

Not more than the Dean she’d been about to kill.


	6. A Deceit of the Most Loving Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Charlie needs a stiff drink and finds herself at a crossroads. Our plot is finally set into motion

Charlie had broken a rib during the ordeal and was on bed rest with ice for the time being, but even though it hurt to breath it wasn’t the worst part of the lingering consequences the siren had so kindly left her with. Bobby had bandaged up her shoulder and brought her demonology books to keep her busy, but she hadn’t seen the boys since the previous night. Once or twice she had heard them arguing outside her door when they thought she was asleep, but they didn’t come in. About three days in she was tired of being cooped up, waking up and hauling herself up to go get coffee on her own. She felt bad putting Bobby out like this. She found Dean in the kitchen with his own coffee. She went to the pot and poured a mug.

“Hey.” He said

“Hey.” She answered, sitting down at the kitchen table with a wince.

“I’m sorry about your ribs.”

“It’s okay, I kind of deserved it.” She paused. Sam hadn’t spoken to her much over the last few days. She assumed why. The siren had thought that what she wanted most in the world was Dean, and she couldn’t deny that he was important to her, but so was Sam. In fact, if she’d had to choose between the two of them she didn’t know what the result would be. But she was still stuck with the consequences of the siren’s spell, and that was Sam’s assumption that she’d choose Dean over him. “I’m really embarrassed about...what happened.” He smiled but it seemed like more of a wince.

“I just didn’t know you felt that way.” He said.

“It was the siren’s influence. Some sort of weird psychic trick.”

“Sam seems to be taking it kind of hard. Is there something I should know about you two?” He asked, looking at his coffee mug. She didn’t know how to answer, or why he wanted to know. It seemed all her cards were on the table whether she wanted them to be or not.

“We...kissed. A while back.”

Dean stared at her, hard. She felt caught between the two of them, not knowing whether or not to backpedal or to bull forward. Dean, or Sam? Sam, or Dean? She didn’t know what she wanted. Dean might have warmed up to her but had never shown any strong inclination towards her that made her think he was attracted to her. Apparently thinking anything was there between them was all on her. He shook his head.

“Man, I dunno what you were thinking, every girl Sam’s been with ends up getting ganked.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Says the man who broke my rib.”

“It wasn’t on purpose, it’s not my fault you’re built like a ballerina.”

They sat there in silence for a moment.

“I’m not attracted to you.” She said, trying to speak his language.

“According to the siren, you’re in denial.” He said, sipping his coffee. Charlie flushed. Suddenly even for all the tangled feelings that she couldn’t sort out, she wanted to hurt him the way he hurt other people.

“Lets keep it that way then. Didn’t think you’d be upset about it.” She said.

“Listen, I’m not the one-” He began, pointing at her like he was about to give her what-for; Sam walked in and they both looked up, Dean shutting his mouth abruptly as if caught. Sam gave him a scathing look.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked.

“No.” Dean and Charlie said at the same time. Looking as if he were trying very hard to ignore both of them, Sam went to the coffee maker and began to pour himself a cup. The silence was agonizing. Charlie didn’t know what she could say to Sam in front of Dean or to Dean in front of Sam. She couldn’t stand it. She stood up.

“Christ, I need a drink.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, Charlie-”

She ignored Sam’s protests and went to the door, pulling on her boots and hopping through the portal before she’d managed to get the last one on. She narrowly avoided Bobby who was coming in from the junkyard.

“Charlie, your rib’s still broke-” He started, but she didn’t stop, the door slamming behind her. She couldn’t take the Impala, then she’d walk. She needed to get out of there. It wasn’t a terribly long walk to town, but it was a painful one because the more she huffed and puffed the more her rib hurt. It was walking down the street that she came up with a solution to her problems. A bar. What she needed right now was a heavy handed pour of rum and some pineapple juice. And maybe a handsome stranger.

___________________________________________

She didn’t know how long she’d been walking before she came to a dirt crossroads and a bar that was little more than a tin roofed shack, mostly because she’d been deep in thought. She thought more while she was drinking, and by the time she’d been cut off the sun had gone down and she had come to a conclusion about her life and the way it was and what to do about it. There was magic all around her, mostly in the form of some spirit or other that wanted to be a poltergeist about it, she guessed, but why not make it work for her?

It made sense. It would be over, everything would be over. Dean would be free, and she’d be free of having to choose. Giving everything up would be as simple as falling asleep, if it meant she could have them both, in a way, before she went. She owed it to them. It took a minute to gather the ritual materials, but she did her best and buried them in the middle of the crossroads, stumbling a bit getting up and shaking her head like a dog to clear it. She’d stuck to beer but she’d had a few and she was a small person. Amongst her own noises on the dirt road she heard something else underneath- approaching footsteps from the dark. She stood there in the apex of the four lamps at the corner of each street, waiting.

Unlike other demons that she’d seen, this one was handsome. Tempting. A salesman. But she could see the flickers underneath his face that told her that it was just a veneer. Like the others she could see through him and he was an ugly thing, not quite dead, not quite alive. Wearing some hapless asshole like a suit.

“Well aren’t you just a delicious morsel?” He asked, black eyes glistening. “What’s a girl like you doing in a crossroads like this?”

“I have holy water.” She let him know. She didn’t, but she wasn’t giving him control of the situation. She was done letting men do that.

“That’s not very civil. I thought you wanted to talk.” He said.

“I do.”

“What’s on your mind, sugar?”

“I want you to let Dean out of his deal.”

“Oh. I’m going to tell you now that that’s not very likely, above my pay grade you see. Though... I’m very curious as to what you’re offering.”

“My soul. I get ten years, right? Then you take me down and that’s that.” She said, stomach twisting at the thought of this. She’d grown up going to Appalachian baptist churches so she knew what the traditional picture of hell was like. The crossroads demon inhaled sharply through his teeth as if tasting the air around her.

“...Very...very tempting.” He said. “The soul of a prophet isn’t something we often get downstairs,” Prophet? She gripped her container of holy water tight. “But I’m a little iffy about your timeline. You see, Dean has pissed a lot of people off, and we can’t just let him go for regular price. He’s a hot commodity.”

“Five years.” She said. Ten years seemed like forever, but five was beginning to push it.

“Tell you what. I’ll ask.” He paused for a second and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. He seemed to be thinking hard for a moment before opening his eyes again and smiling. “No go. But just for you, because you’re so...absolutely tempting, I’ll give you the same deal as Dean got. One year.”

“One year?” She asked.

“One year of bliss with your beloved Dean.....and Sam.” He said, eyes glinting knowingly. “I can’t help you chose between them though.” She blushed angrily, not knowing if he was digging in her head or if he could do that.

“And nobody touches Dean? He’s free?”

“Dean’ll be safe and sound.” He said. She licked her lips and found them dry.

“How do we seal the deal then?” She asked. A slick smile spread across the demon’s face.

“Come a little closer and give me a kiss.” He said. This did not seem right, but it did not seem wrong either. A kiss was, in a way, an exchange of power. She stepped closer. Rot seemed to spread across his face as she did so, marring his handsome face. Do it. Just do it. Hell was so close that she could smell the sulfur on his breath. Closing her eyes to be rid of the consequences, she went up on tiptoe. There was a click, but she pulled away too late. Their lips had made full contact.

“Charlie, get away from him!” Dean’s voice came from her peripheral and she jumped, swinging around to find him pointing a colt at the crossroads demon’s head. “You get back to hell before I blow a hole in your miserable head.” He grated at it.

“Dean!” Charlie said, not knowing if she was simply surprised or starting an attempt to talk her way out of this. He didn’t look happy. There was a whoosh behind her and when she looked back, the demon was gone. Dean lowered the gun.

“Are you kidding me? A crossroads demon?? What the hell are you thinking?!” He asked.

“I did it for you!” She shouted. He thought he could treat her like a child, but no more. She was done with that, with the bluster and the tough guy attitude. She was done and she’d have her say. “Sam is going to lose you- I’m going to lose you, and you’re here to stop me? Who the hell do you think you are?!” She yelled. She didn’t ask how he’d found her.

“You went through with it?!” He bellowed. Tears welled up, not because she regretted doing it but because he was shouting at her.

“What fucking clout do you think you have that you can stop me from selling what’s mine??” She bellowed back through the tears. Frustrated beyond words, he scuffed violently at the ground as if it was the only way to let out the energy he wanted to direct at her.

“You sold your soul for me and you’re telling me you’re not in love with me??” He accused.

“I DON’T KNOW.” She shouted. Silence settled over them and she felt the night around her, warm and dry, the gravel under her feet and the hot tears sticky on her cheeks. It burned under her eyes when she scrubbed at them with her fist, but the moment of listening to the grasshoppers saw in the long grass was letting her get a hold of herself. She blinked down at the road, not wanting to look at Dean while she said it, but as long as she’d already made a mess of things she might as well get it all out. “I don’t know. I love both of you, and I know that’s wrong, but I don’t want to lose either of you and I can see that happening if I didn’t do anything. You’d be gone and then I’d lose Sam too because he can’t live without you.” Her whole world was crashing down on her which made it somehow, easy to look up and meet his eyes. “We need you, Dean. It’s done.”

“What’s Sam gonna say?” He asked. His voice was gentler than she had expected, his frame looser, lower. He looked like he was in pain, gesturing with the colt that he still held in one hand. “What’s he going to say when I tell him I didn’t get there in time and I let you give yourself away for me?” Tears clinging to her lashes, she wiped her face regretfully. She hadn’t, didn’t- but he wasn’t done. “How long do you have?”

“A year.” She whispered. He looked up as if asking for patience, throwing his arms in the air.

“A year! Jesus Christ, Charlie.” He hid his face in his hands, rubbing it with the balls of his palms as if exhausted. “Jesus Christ. No. You’re not going.”

“W-what?”

“I said fuck no! There’s gotta be a way out. We were already looking for one for me, we’ll just keep researching and find you a way out.” He paused, looking at the ground with the gun held flat to his temple, parallel with his skull as if he was thinking very hard. “We can’t tell Sam, he’ll lose it. We just....Keep doing what we’re doing and when we figure it out, we get you out.”

Charlie didn’t know what to feel about keeping it a secret from Sam. On one hand, a secret? From Sam? On the other hand, while Dean needed Sam sharp, Charlie had not intended to tell anyone about tonight and needed him ignorant to what she had done.

_____________________________


End file.
